Retrograde
by FortuneFaded2012
Summary: An accident is a funny thing, you never see it coming, but after it happens you are certain you knew it would occur. It's some sort of doomed providence that you can't really escape. Accidents are fate. When Gale Hawthorne awakens after a collapse in the mines physically injured and mentally lost, he must grapple with the blank space that exists in his mind.


**Title:** **Retrograde**

 **Characters:** Madge, Gale, Hazelle, Rory, Katniss, Peeta, Prim, Vick, Thom, Bristel, Madge/Gale's children

* * *

The mind is a truly feeble thing, but we never consider that until something terrible happens and it stops functioning the way it ought to. In an instant the delicate neurons can be irreparably damaged and life as you know it ceases to exist. The brain, a small organ the size of a head of cauliflower controls everything within your body: temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, physical movement. Most importantly it controls the way in which you store and interact with information about the world around you. It's the way you think, dream, reason and experience emotions. Your brain is all that you were, are, and will be.

Gale Hawthorne never put much thought into how his brain works, why it does the things it does. He never thought that his own brain could turn against him, that he could lose parts of it and never retrieve them. He never considered that he may one day lose _who_ he is.

An accident is a funny thing, you never see it coming, but after it happens you are _certain_ you knew it would occur. It's some sort of doomed providence that you can't really escape. Accidents are fate.

Gale is no stranger to accidents. He lives in District 12. Mining mishaps are a part of life. It's how he lost his father and how his father lost his Uncle and so on and so forth for generations back. Nearly every person he knows is affected by it in some way, shape, or form.

He expects it, he dreams about it, he lives it. Then one day when the sun is particularly bright in the sky and he is trapped below the dark, cool, damp earth it is his turn to become a statistic. Destiny has dealt his hand and the cards align in such a way that there is really no chance of avoiding it.

As the walls begin to crumble around him and the wooden beams buckle over-head he finds a laugh bursting forth from his chest. Of course this would happen to him today. How could he ever have doubted that it would?

* * *

Something isn't right. I jolt awake, my heart beating a rhythm that matches the pounding in my head. The world is too bright, the bed too soft. Everything is sharp, blistering behind my eyes and drilling into the back of my skull. My tongue is dry, heavy and immobile. I can't recall drinking white liquor with Thom last night, but it must have happened. Only one thing could make me desire a black-out drunken night – Katniss was reaped.

"Mr. Hawthorne?" There is a knot in my stomach. Did I pass out in the middle of town? No, I'm on a bed of some sort. The man saying my name shakes my shoulder lightly.

A quiet female voice interjects, "Gale – Can you hear me?"

I blink rapidly. The bright lights are buzzing white. They sting my ears. A low groan develops in my throat, a protest to the colors and noise. The hand I try to cover my eyes with hits my chest instead. My arm feels strange, but I can't find the word in my head to describe it.

"Everdeen, have you administered the GCS? We need to know his level of consciousness. This could be a severe head injury." Everdeen? I recognize that name, but the person speaking doesn't sound like anyone I know. Is he talking to Katniss' mother?

"I'm attempting to perform the scale right now Dr. Fields," the quiet voice is back again and this time a set of soft gentle hands touch my shoulder. My vision is beginning to focus on a pale distinctly female face ringed with yellowy hair. The edges are jittery and odd, but the young woman slowly begins to appear.

I form the only word that comes to mind, "Prim." The woman's mouth bends into a hesitant smile. She nods and presses a cool hand to my forehead. The contact spreads an icy chill over my heated skin. The shiver that follows sends pin pricks of pain everywhere. I groan, wincing against the throbbing.

"Can you tell me your name?"

I know this word immediately, "Gale."

"Yes, that's right, but what is your full name?" She asks. I frown at her and my cheeks ache. This woman is little Prim, but so much older. How can she be both Prim and a woman? _What did she ask me to do again?_

"What?" I croak.

"Your full name," she fights at what I can see is a frown hiding behind her gentle smile, "What is your full name?" _Wait…I do know this answer._

My throat is sore, each word a cough as it barks out, "Gale Odin Hawthorne." She smiles and nods, marking on something in her arms with a pen. The word escapes me for a moment until it suddenly appears, _a clipboard_ , she's writing on a clipboard.

"Do you know what day it is, Gale?" Her blue eyes look so similar to Prim's. _I saw Prim yesterday. It was her first reaping. She was reaped._ My heart begins to race, my chest constricting suddenly. She must see the panic rising in me because her gentle hand touches my shoulders.

"It's alright Gale, you're safe. Today is –"

"It's Monday. It's June 8th," I interrupt her. She looks toward someone across the room and I realize that things are less bright and fuzzy. We're in some sort of hospital. Panic squeezes me again. _Why am I in a hospital?_

"Where am I?" I see Dr. Fields across the room. _Doesn't he work in town? I'm in town, I must be._

The yellowy young woman looks around her briefly. Her paper white hands grip at the clipboard. "This is the hospital ward at the mine. There's been an accident."

 _An accident at the mine? The mines were closed yesterday because of the reaping. Prim was reaped and Katniss volunteered in her place._ My mind races between thoughts _. Where am I? I'm in the hospital ward at the mine. I'm in the hospital ward at the mine and there has been an accident. I've been in an accident. There was an accident. Where's Katniss? Katniss was reaped._

"The reaping," I choke.

I try to sit up, but my whole body shakes with weakness. _I need to find Katniss and Prim. I need to find Rory. It was his first reaping. Is Rory all right? Did I dream the reaping? Did I drink myself senseless and do something stupid at the mine?_ So many questions, each one just barely grasping me before it runs off, wild and frantic.

The yellowy woman is pushing me back onto the bed and shushing me softly like a mother would to a small child. "What year is it Gale? You said it's June 8th. What year?"

I stare at her and something in the back of my mind screams that I know her. And I do. I've looked at her fondly so many times, like a sister of my own. "Prim?" I should be embarrassed of the whimper in my voice, but I'm terrified suddenly. _Something isn't right here._

"It's alright. I'm here Gale. You're safe. You hurt your head and you're just a little confused. I'm here to help you," she assures me.

She goes to a metallic table along the wall and brings something back to me, "Here, take as sip of water."

She hands me a short clear glass. It's nicer than any glass in my house. There are no chips in the rim. I lean up to take it from her, tipping the glass to my mouth. I let the liquid brush against my dry lips and slip past them. It tastes coppery, but I swallow it with relief. I suddenly realize how parched I am. It feels like I haven't had a drink in days.

"Do you know where you are?" She asks kindly.

"In the hospital ward at the mine. You just told me," I tell her incredulously. She nods.

"And the year?" She asks just as sweetly, ignoring my sudden snappy temper.

"Twenty-one Fifteen." She makes a few marks and glances toward a closed curtain where I hear the doctor talking with another patient. Her lips keep moving as I watch the curtain billow back and forth. The doctor's feet are visible, walking first left, then right. _Who's back there? Where are Thom and Bristel?_

"Gale?" The woman asks, bringing me back to her. I realize she must have been talking. _There's been an accident. I'm in the hospital._

"You said something about the reaping. Do you remember the last thing that happened to you?"

Everything feels like a big blank space when I try to recall what happened before I somehow came here. I can sense a strange coal-ridden smell, something dank and musty like damp earth. I remember talking to Thom and Bristel, but I can't remember what we were saying…and the reaping. _Katniss._

"The reaping. My best friend was…was…no, she volunteered. For her sister." There is a sharp pain behind my eyes. I cringe and shake my head. The dank smell is overpowering me. _There was an accident, my head._

I try to sit up again, pulling at a strange tube in my arm. _When did that get there?_ "I need to go home, my family needs me."

"Your family has been informed. Everyone will be alright. You aren't going anywhere yet. You've been injured and you need treatment." She attaches her clipboard to the end of the bed and quickly pushes me back under the starched covers.

"That's it, back in you go. Put your head down, you need to rest a little," she soothes. She's so beautiful. I know her, _Prim_.

"I don't want to go to sleep," I protest, pushing at her gentle hands.

She sighs, "You don't have to sleep; I just want you to take it easy. Let me talk to the doctor for a minute. I'll be right back." _My mother is going to kill me. Whatever happened, I've fucked up big time. Will the peacekeepers arrest me?_

My muscles ache. They feel different. I stare at my forearm where the tube is slowly leaking some sort of clear liquid into me. My arms seem larger than I remember. My face itches and this time my hand hits me in the chin when I attempt to move it. I scratch at the spot and instantly the hairs on my arms stand high. _Something isn't right!_ There's enough stubble and facial hair on my chin for a week or more… _but I shaved before the reaping_. It could have been me that was reaped; I needed to look my best. _Who is the male tribute…Peeta, the youngest Mellark boy…yes, that's what happened, I'm sure of it. Peeta was reaped._

"Mr. Hawthorne…Mr. Hawthorne…" _Look up, someone's talking to you._ Dr. Fields' mouth is moving, but my ears don't work at first. The ringing is back. I didn't notice it.

He repeats himself and this time it sticks. "Ms. Everdeen says that you seem to be a little confused. I'd like to talk to you about it. Is that okay?" I nod. The hairs are still standing on edge on my arms. I feel cold, but my head feels so warm.

"The last thing you described is the reaping in 2115. Do you remember how you got into the mine?" I shake my head.

"I smell something damp mixed with coal – when I think about what I remember. It's…dark." Dr. Fields nods, pushing his glasses up on his nose with one stubby finger.

"I remember talking with my friends, but I can't remember what they were saying…or their faces. Just that it happened." Dr. Fields nods again and looks down at the clipboard in the nurses hand. He takes it from her, making a few notes.

"Okay, thank you Mr. Hawthorne. There are some family members here to see you. I'm going to fill them in on your health and then maybe they can come in a few at a time." He leaves with a professional smile and a pat on one of my blanket covered feet. The yellowy woman busies herself moving around the room. Eventually she comes back and closes the green curtains around my bed.

She gives me a tentative smile, "I'll check on you a little later, everything is going to be just fine."

I stare at the ceiling. The lines are swimming and it hurts my eyes. I close them and just listen, but my ears are buzzing too much. At some point I drift into a restless sleep, fading in an out with the different aches and pains. The yellowy woman returns, shushing me and giving me something that calms my muscles but heightens the world around me.

I startle awake when I hear a chair scraping somewhere across the large white room. There are voices whispering loudly outside my curtain, but no one enters. I open my eyes and stare at 3 pairs of feet and legs, truncated at the shins by the green fabric. Finally, a hand emerges, pulling the curtain back enough to enter.

"Ma, I'm sorry," the choking almost whimper sound is back in my voice. She immediately comes to my bed, kissing my cheeks, my forehead, and my scratched hands. She whispers sweet words and quiets the choking sounds so that they die in my throat, before they fully escape.

Someone pulls a chair over to the bed for my mother to sit in; again the scraping noise is too much for me. I groan and raise one hand to my left ear. The person murmurs a deep "sorry" as they shuffle to stand behind the chair. I look up into the face of a man. _My face_ , but it isn't me. _It's Rory_. _No, that's not right! Rory is twelve years old. It was his first reaping just yesterday._ I look at my mother, and her face is aged, wrinkled more than it ever was. The panic is rising again. I grip at the sheets, trying to burry myself under them. I'm mumbling, what am I saying? _No, no, no, no_.

My mother leans forward and grips one of my hands between both of hers, untangling it from the fabric beneath, "Honey it's alright. We're here. It's me, it's me...you're alright."

"What happened?" I'm breathing heavily; each breath is a gasp for air. Just like earlier. _How long have I been here?_

I reach up and press my free hand to my mother's face, running the fingers over age lines that have appeared over-night. _That's not it though, is it? The big blank space. There's been an accident and I have a big blank space._

My mother starts to explain, "There's been an –" _Yes, I know…accident._

"An accident. At the mines. I'm not dead? I'm not dreaming?"

My mother smiles softly, "No, sweetheart, you're not dead. But…you're missing some things. You're not dreaming. I'm not supposed to…"

"I'm blank." I say simply. She nods. I stare at her. She looks so tired.

"How blank am I?" I need to know.

"Gale, I can't –" she stops, closing her eyes and pulling my hand closer to her, "the doctor says you might have retrograde amnesia. It might last a few days, maybe longer. He's…hopeful. You seem to be functioning fairly well besides that. How is your pain?" I look beyond her shoulder, at Rory. _Rory is a man. I must be really fucking blank then._

"Gale, don't swear like that. Everything will be alright," my mother says. _You can hear me?_

"Sweetheart, you're talking out loud of course I can hear you." Her eyebrows knit together. She glances back at Rory worriedly. He grips onto her shoulder, trying to encourage her somehow. I stare at him now. He looks so much like me, but older than I see myself.

I direct my next question at him, "The reaping wasn't yesterday was it?" He shakes his head.

The person behind the curtain lets out a quiet little sob. I stare at the buckled boots, distinctly feminine. "Is that Posy?" I ask accusingly. My brother shakes his head, pain in his eyes.

"Katniss?" I ask more quietly. He shakes his head once more. I swallow thickly.

"Is Katniss dead?" Rory releases a breath and closes his eyes.

"No, she's very much alive," he almost smirks. _She won the games then?_

"I knew she could win," I nod, but I'm still distracted by the feet behind the curtain. _Where are Posy and Vick?_

I need to know who is back there. They must be important. "Well, can she come in?" I ask, "Or is it not allowed or something?" My mother looks at the curtain worriedly. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. Her lips snap shut and she exchanges a heated look with Rory.

"Don't freak out. Promise you won't," Rory warns. I scoff at him, _what warrants that?_ "Just promise, Gale."

I sigh, and then nod once. I don't roll my eyes, because I know it would hurt. Rory walks towards the curtain and exchanges a few hurried whispers with someone. Whoever it is, they don't want to come in.

"The doctor said we have to tell him the truth about things a little at a time. Let him grapple with it. He promised he wouldn't go ape-shit," Rory whispers loudly. My mother's eyebrows knit together, while her teeth worry at her bottom lip.

"Oh hell, just come on, he'll find out sooner or later," Rory grinds out. He haphazardly pulls someone into the space by her arm.

Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't Madge Undersee. She's older, ethereal, attractive and – "Holy fuck, did you knock up the mayor's daughter?!" I snap at my brother, ready to sit up in bed and fill him to the brim with a lecture. I start to push my mother away in my effort to get out from under the stifling sheets and blankets.

Rory belly laughs, but it feels false, almost sarcastic, "It wasn't me that did it, it was you!"

I sputter and choke for a moment, falling back onto the pillow, "No…no that…that can't be right." I flounder as my wide eyes take in the woman before me. She's something else entirely, she's…striking? She's…crying.

"You said you wouldn't freak," Rory accuses jokingly, but he seems to be enjoying my confusion.

"Madge," I choke. "What happened?" She laughs a short bitter sound and then cries harder. My chest is tighter than a vice grip now.

Rory awkwardly begins to pat her on the back. "Well this is going better than I had hoped," he intones. Madge swiftly punches him in the arm. I can't say, I don't enjoy seeing that type of interaction from someone other than me. There must be some merits to her, otherwise we wouldn't be together. _We're together…_

"Don't cry," I finally manage as I watch her break apart. I don't like when she cries, I know this already. I can't stand hurting her and I don't even _know_ her. _Hell, I've down-right disliked her for the past few years._

She smiles through her tears and shakes her head, "We're…" she looks at my mother hesitantly who throws her hands up as if to say, _well we've gone back on everything we promised the doctor already, so why the hell not?_

"We're married," Madge breaths out, "We were married six years ago." She sniffles, rubbing her eyes on the sleeve of her dress. I really _see_ the thing now. It's not a beautiful dress belonging to a Mayor's daughter, it's a Seam dress. _She lives with me, in the Seam. She's my wife. We're having a baby. Do we have other babies?_ Her eyes are so sad. She loves me and I…I don't feel anything. I am absolutely blank.

"How blank am I?" I demand, glaring at all of them, suddenly incensed and appalled at my own loss of memory. I don't know who I am anymore. All the things I've done and hoped to do. It's all changed. It must have.

"It's 2125, you're going to be 28 years old next week," Madge explains softly. She rings her hands together nervously, "Prim's reaping happened ten years ago." _Then, Prim was my nurse. Madge, Madge, Madge…is my wife. Katniss is alive and she won the Hunger Games. Fuck._ I close my eyes tightly, I feel like I can't breathe. Ten whole years are just a gaping empty hole.

"What the fuck happened?" I yell. Everyone jumps, but no one says anything else. Where would they even start filling in ten whole years of my life?

* * *

Dr. Fields is trying to explain my blank life to my mother and Madge. I can hear them behind the curtain. They are talking like I'm not able to decipher what they are saying. I'm not deaf. I may be confused about my words sometimes or my feelings, but I'm not deaf and I'm not dumb.

"Temporal-lobe damage to one's memory can be life-changing. Our memory is connected to our overall identity, but not entirely. He will still like the same things, have the same personality traits, and so on." _So I'm going to remain mostly a jerk? Great…here I was thinking this was a fresh start._ I'm sitting in the bed-side chair, staring at the dusty floor. No matter how many times Prim and her co-nurse Eliza sweep and mop the floor, it never is rid of the coal remnants that are tracked in.

"He has a number of sensory deficits that will affect him for an extensive period of time, maybe the rest of his life. Bright lights, loud noises, things like that should be monitored."

"What about the mines?" My mother asks?

"I don't know if he can work in the mines again. It'll take some time before I can re-evaluate. Physically he seems to be having some fine and gross motor deficits…meaning his body is not moving the way it should for small and big movements. He's going to need a lot of care. He needs to take it easy," Dr. Fields is so clinical it hurts.

I can't stand being here any longer. It's been too long, even with Prim to care for me. I just can't take it anymore. I've been _awake_ for 4 weeks. I walk using a walker, I eat with shaking hands, and I forget my words sometimes. I'm so frustrated that I cry. Other times I cry and don't understand why.

"But will he ever get his memories back?" Madge asks softly. She's much calmer now then she was during our initial _meeting_. She comes to check up on me once in a while, but it's mostly a time of awkward conversation. She doesn't tell me things about _us_ , unless I ask. Mostly I ask her talk about our children.

"I highly doubt it. I'm not going to lie to you Mrs. Hawthorne. This isn't something you can just cure or fix with another bump on the head. He can still form new memories, that's evident. He's just lost all the old ones. He's very aware of where the deficits are; this is going to be a very painful journey forward for him. There may be seizures, headaches, dizziness, mood swings, a reduced level of tolerance."

I want to go home. I'll be going to Ma's house and maybe someday I can move back in with Madge. For now, I just want something familiar. When I face new things, new ideas of who I have been for the last ten years and what I have missed, I am always overwhelmed. I'm always confused. Everyone tries to clear things up, but I can only take so much information at a time. There are so many questions and fears that I have about what the answers will be.

I decide it's better for me to tune out the conversation behind the curtain. Instead I reach for the book on the side-table beside my hospital bed. It's filled with things that belong in my blank space. Sometimes when someone tells me something or answers my questions I forget what we talked about and eventually I ask again. When I write it down and practice the answer over and over I memorize it. It's not a new memory, it's factual. So the next time, when I have a question I already know the answer. I open to the first page of the small leather book and read the short list that I have compiled over the last few weeks.

\- I'm 28 year old. I work in the mines. I had an accident.

\- It's May 2025.

\- Posy is dead. (2 years ago – Hunger Games 82 – 12 years old)

\- Madge is my wife. (6 years)

\- I have two children: Pax (5) and Margo (3)

\- Pax likes animals. Margo likes flowers.

\- New baby: due in September (?)

\- Katniss is married to Peeta Mellark – they both survived the games.

\- Katniss is in the Capitol.

\- Madge's parents are dead. (Mayor's mansion was burned down.)

\- New Mayor is named Donovan

\- New Head Peacekeeper – Thread

\- Pax goes to school. He enjoys it.

\- Vick works in the Mayor's office.

\- Rory works in the mines. Rory is engaged to Prim.

"Gale, are you ready to go?" I look up and find Madge at the curtain's edge. She smiles tentatively as I nod. She's walking me home. Well, to my Ma's house. She insisted she come. Sometimes I see how persistent and pig-headed she is and it makes sense to me, why we would be together. Other times, I can't imagine how it ever came to be.

"Alright then, let me carry your book and bag," she offers as she steps forward to grab the bag off the table. There are only a few odds and ends that my family has brought me over the last few weeks. Things to keep my occupied. I hand her the book. Briefly her cool hand brushes against mine. I'm amazed at how silky her fingers feel every time we accidently touch. This time is no different.

"What do you do for a job? I mean – do you have one?" I find that questions often arise without much of a filter against them. Madge pauses for a moment as she slings my hunting bag over her shoulder. It's so strange to see it on her. She's so comfortable with it.

"Well, I have a few," she says evasively. I gather that means she'll tell me later. She does that sometimes when I ask about things I shouldn't. Like Posy, her parents, and why Katniss is in the Capitol.

My mother steps into my space, pulling back the curtain enough to get my walker through. Then they both help me stand. Needing the assistance of others makes me feel so inferior. I don't like being taken care of.

"Morning Ma," I greet as I press a kiss to the side of her head. She smiles and asks how I'm doing, receiving the same indifferent reply that I always give.

Dr. Fields and Prim are waiting by the doorway to see us off. I let go of the walker shakily with one hand and raise my palm toward the Doc. He's been nicer to me than any merchant ever has been. "Mr. Hawthorne, you will be seeing us in a few days for a check-up. Please try to relax and note any symptoms that arise. Your mother and wife are under strict orders to make you comfortable and to take it easy on introducing new things for a while. We wish you luck," Dr. Fields says as he shakes my hand.

"Thanks for everything Doc, Prim." They nod and wave off my words as I make my way through the door. The sun-light outside is so much brighter than I remember it being. I blink several times against the fuzzy dots in my vision.

"Alright dear, let's take it easy on the way back, we've got plenty of time," my mother reminds me. The sound of bugs buzzing in the grass just beyond her catches my attention. Dr. Fields told me that things will bother me for a while, maybe even forever. I sigh dejectedly.

My legs move so much slower than I want them to, practically a snail's pace. I growl once in a while in frustration, but try to focus on picking up one leg at a time. I'm sweating after we've only made it to the main road. Madge keeps glancing at me worriedly, but I just shake my head at her. I don't want to stop yet. I need to make it at least to the end of the road. It's my goal.

"Pax and Margo are so excited to see you tomorrow," Madge says.

She seems to be focusing on the road ahead, trying not to look at me. Whenever she talks about our kids she gets a sparkle in her eye and her voice is filled with excitement. Sometimes she makes me smile, she's so enthralled with them. I refused to let them come to see me at the hospital. I didn't want to see them that way. A small part of me was also putting off the inevitable. I'm terrified to meet them.

"Tell me something new about them," I grit out as I push the walker determinedly on the gravel road. Once in a while the wheels catch on a larger rock and shake the whole thing violently.

Madge glances at me, then at my mother who seems to be keeping silent. She likes to do that when Madge is around. It's like she's giving her the role of leading me through the darkness. "Hmm, Pax is very excited about the new baby. He keeps telling it stories at bed-time. The baby kicks a lot when he talks."

"Dad and I used to tell Posy stories that way too. Remember that, Ma?" I laugh as I fondly remember it. I haven't had many positive things to say about Posy in the last few weeks. I was suspicious about why she hadn't come to see me. Ma would look teary every time I asked after her. Rory eventually told me the truth. He wouldn't elaborate on the basics, just that she's gone. It was her first reaping and Katniss did everything she could.

Ma smiles and looks up ahead, "Yeah, I remember. She would jump around like crazy every time your father spoke and you boys would laugh and laugh at the way my belly rolled."

I turn back toward Madge, "What about Margo, anything new?" Today Madge is wearing a blue smock and dark tan pants. I've never seen her wear pants.

"Margo learned how to write her name," Madge smiles, "We've been working on it for ages, hand over hand, but she was bound and determined to do it on her own last night. She wants to show you tomorrow." Like always, I find myself smiling along with her. Something about her smiles are infectious, you can't help but get excited when she is.

We stop for a rest at the end of the road and again a few blocks from my mother's house. As we approach the end of her block an unexpected sight greets us. We all exchange worried glances. A pair of Peacekeepers are waiting on her porch, their eyes scanning the neighboring houses. A group of children duck their heads as they walk by them, carrying a kickball toward the meadow.

"What do you think they want," I murmur as we keep walking toward them. My mother looks at me worriedly, "I'm not sure."

I catch my right foot in a rutt and Madge immediately grabs onto my elbow and places a hand on my lower back. "Watch your step, it's pretty bumpy down here," she chastises me. "Don't pay any mind to them; we'll see what they want when we get there. You just focus on the road." She's right, so I follow her lead and look at the path ahead of me, focusing on things that might trip me up. Madge doesn't take her guiding hands off me and rather than feel the prickly sensations I often do when we touch, I find her guidance comforting.

A few yards from the porch one of the Peacekeepers addresses us, "Magdalene Hawthorne?"

Madge lets go of my elbow, but keeps her left hand on my back as she looks up, "Yes? Can I help you?"

"We have notification here that your husband has missed 4 weeks of service in the mines. Due to his absence we are notifying you that he has been lain off," the man, a bulky blonde, hands Madge a paper stamped with a seal from the mines. She keeps a neutral face as she tears it open.

I grit my teeth against the remark that I want to throw at the men who are acting as if I'm not even present. Madge scans the letter briefly, "Sir, I don't mean any disrespect, but my husband was injured in the collapse there is no way that he can go back to work at this time. Can his position be held until he heals?"

"No m'am, we were told to deliver the final notice. You've been given three notifications that the spot could be taken by another family member. Since no one has filled this position the contract will be terminated." At least the man has the decency to be proper with her.

"I understand," she presses the crisp white paper to her side and looks toward me with a smile that I know is meant to be encouraging.

"Thank you for your time," Madge adds politely as the men begin to walk away. They glance between themselves. The blonde man that delivered the letter nods, "Have a good day m'am." I've never seen Peacekeepers so formal. Maybe they know who Madge used to be? We watch them walk toward town in silence.

Once they've made it a safe distance Madge turns back toward me, "I'm so sorry Gale, I didn't want you to lose your job, but in my condition I wouldn't be able to stand in for you."

"I know," I say simply, "It's alright."

Instead of dwelling, I turn toward the house. I'm determined to make it up the three steps onto the porch. At least that is something I can do, _you can do it, you can, just one step at a time_.

"Be careful on the steps," my mother pleads as I maneuver them with great difficulty, gripping onto Madge's hand and the railing.

Ma brings the walker up and situates it in front of me before she opens the door. Not much has changed in my home. A few things are in different places than they used to be and there's a new picture on the mantle beside my parent's wedding photo, even from a distance I can tell its Posy.

Immediately I head toward that picture. I need to see her face, like I need to breathe air. It never occurred to me to ask if they had a picture. A strained noise escapes me as I pick up the frame and examine my baby sister's face. It isn't a picture, but a painting. More realistic than any I have ever seen. At twelve years old, Posy was more beautiful than I could imagine her ever becoming.

"Who made this?" My voice cracks with the effort of fighting tears that are prickling their way out. My mother lays her head on my shoulder as she looks at the painting. She circles my waist with her arms.

"Peeta painted it. He gave it to us when they came back after the games. It looks just like her. She was so stunning wasn't she?" Ma is on the verge of crying too.

"She would have broken all the hearts in the Seam," I say, thinking of all the men we would have been fending off.

"She already did," my mother murmurs, taking the frame from my hand and placing it on the shelf. She clears her throat and turns toward the kitchen where Madge is filling a glass with water from the pump. She hands one to my mother, exchanging a look with her then and brings one to me.

"Posy always wanted a sister," I tell Madge as she hands me the glass. She nods, her eyes distant as she looks toward the window.

She points toward the tree in the side-yard where some yellow and red tulips are planted along the trunk, "I helped her plant those a few years ago, when I was still pregnant for Margo. There is one for each member of our family planted there. It was her idea."

"We'll have to plant one for the new baby then," I say softly.

"I'd like that," she agrees. "Well, I better get home, the kids will be waiting and I'm sure Mari wants to get back home." I nod, but a thought occurs to me.

"Where do we live?" I ask as Madge heads toward the door. She grins, excited to tell me something new that isn't about our children or her parents.

"Next door of course, that's our tulip tree."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello long lost friends. Thanks for reading the first chapter of Retrograde. I started this story as a means of practicing writing to get back into the swing of things after a very long hiatus. I will be updating several other stories and posting the next few chapters of this one within the next few weeks. As I stated on my tumblr page, my new policy is to post only chapters for stories that are completed or nearly completed so that people no longer have to wait for them. Thanks for all the encouragement and friendship I have received during this time. I would love it if you could take the time to review and let me know what you think. Any stylistic problems, errors, or oddities you notice let me know. I am working hard to improve myself as a writer. See you soon!**


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